


Oh Honey Honey

by SpicyCitrus



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Sex Work, Sugar Daddy, but instead of sex it's cuddling and massages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCitrus/pseuds/SpicyCitrus
Summary: Ozpin has lived many lives and been many things- but what he is now is *lonely.* However, he doesn't want to lead anyone on in terms of future marriage plans, so he decides to give sugar dating a try. (Oz needs more love! Not a smut fic. Cover image credit to vioriie/varuvi on DA. Cross-posted on FFN.)
Relationships: Ozpin (RWBY)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. Set the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Ozpin needs some more love, hence this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters are well over 18+.

Oz had long since lost any shame when it came to romance, dating, or sex. Having the sum total memory and experience of countless men, some of whom had made sexwork their main source of livelihood, made it nearly impossible for him to come across a fetish or kink that at least one of his lives hadn't tried. That said, memories didn't warm his sheets and being able to call upon a myriad of experiences did nothing for the fact that Ozpin was his own person and wanted to feel those things for himself.

So it was with only a little trepidation that he signed up for a "sugar" dating site. He'd come to the decision in part due to his other half's experience, and in part due to the fact that he was hopelessly awkward. At twenty-nine he was no longer the gangly, uncoordinated man he was at nineteen, but being a prodigy and the youngest Headmaster of any of the Huntsmen Academies had not done any favors for his social skills.

His circle outside of Beacon included the various politicians that made up the Vale Council, associated departments, and random business associates- which, to be frank, boiled down to nothing more than a pit of vultures with one or two good souls thrown in there for good measure. Most of the Beacon faculty (save three) were older than him, and the majority of those folks had at least a decade on him and a healthy sense of professionalism so there went any hope of pulling from that pool of familiar faces.

He could have tried properly dating someone, true, but when would he have the time? The courage? He was, in the words of various hanger ons, quite the catch but he wasn't looking for one-off hook-ups and ladder climbers. Neither did he have the desire to build a family, which he knew from experience turned most prospective matches away. While he could have contented himself to a life without a partner of any sort, Oswin (the king) had been terribly lonely by the end of it all and Ozpin wanted to correct that.

Hence the incredibly discreet dating site, and his new status as "verified - premium."

"Well Oz," he sighed and opened up his strictly-sugar email. "Let's see what Fate has in store for you today."

**/\\!/\**

Miella was having one hell of a week.

Not in a bad way, but she was definitely experiencing each and every day with sharp clarity.

After a few months of being single, and working part-time on top of her courses, she decided to brush the dust off of her sugar-baby account and dive back into the world of paid dating. She wasn't looking for anything extravagant (five star dinners sounded nice on paper, but the amount of prepwork that went into them left her more tired than the actual dates!) but she also wasn't looking for pocket change. No, she was on the hunt for someone to cuddle with and cook for in exchange for a couple of shifts' worth of overtime pay. She was an affectionate person and she didn't mind putting that to use through running the register or sugar-dating. She just wanted enough to afford some new clothes and a nice bottle of perfume; little things that made life worth living.

Having to delete half her inbox after icon-less and creepily desperate people reached out to her? Not one of the little things that made life worth living.

She clipped her honey brown hair into a pile atop her head and worked through the rest of her notifications. To her surprise, there were a few decent offers hidden there. One was a dentist looking for a naked maid to clean her apartment while she watched- with a potential for things to shift into something more serious if things went well. Another was an erotic artist looking for a model (with sex possibly to follow). Her third, and most recent, offer came from a workaholic teacher who was desperate for cuddles and companionship.

Hm, who to choose, who to choose… well, it was only the first message. There was plenty of time to choose later (if she even had to; for all she knew they'd be okay with sharing her time). She messaged all three back and put the matter from her mind for the next few days.

She spent her free-time getting herself back into tip-top shape; manicure, pedicure, hair mask, body oil, a haircut- the works. As a "sugar baby" (and ugh she wasn't fond of the term) she didn't have to sleep with any of her clients unless she wanted to, but shifting her image from tired student to flirty twenty year old did wonders for leading minds in the right direction.


	2. Chapter 2

Three first dates and an informal contract later, Ozpin leaned into the spray of hot water and sighed. At his feet, a lavender scented bar dissolved and released a steady cloud of calming scent.

He thought his demands (well, demands was a harsh word- requests?) had been fairly straightforward but the first woman he interviewed (for lack of a better term) had torn him to pieces with a few well placed questions. In his effort to be accommodating he'd failed to set up any real boundaries outside of "don't disturb me when I'm at work" and Dolce helpfully informed him that if they'd been anyone else the arrangement would have ended in disaster for both sides.

Which, yes, he knew that. He _knew_ he was supposed to be clear and firm in his desires. Open, clear communication was the keystone to making any relationship work, but especially an arrangement like this.

Yet he'd panicked and stumbled when it came time to discussing terms after the date, wary of asserting himself and coming off as a domineering jerk.

Dolce asked: did he want to go on a date-by-date basis or a longer sort of arrangement? He responded: well whatever worked better for them, he wasn't picky.

She asked: what sort of dates did he want to go on? He replied: oh, ahem, well, he hadn't exactly thought about that but, uhm, he liked the theatre?

They narrowed their eyes, bored like a cat that had cornered its prey long ago and drawled: Was he asking her if he liked the theater? Well then. How often did he want to go to the theater? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing a Grimm would run into the restaurant to save him, then cleared his throat: Well. He hadn't seen anything around town yet so he wasn't sure. He could look into it, and get back to her... ?

And that was where their date had ended. Much bolder than him (too bold, one might say), they manhandled his head into their lap without an ounce of care for how they appeared to the rest of the restaurant. He wished he could care half as much as she did because while he had wanted to hide his face, he wasn't imagining it to be quite like this.

Still, it demonstrated just how touch-starved he was when she dragged her nails across his scalp and he melted into a puddle instead of the grown man he had to continuously convince the Council he was. Somehow he managed to listen to her sharp advice through the soft-edge daze of having his hair played with.

It was, in short, a disaster and he completely understood why Dolce had (politely) told him to lose her number. At least they'd given him valuable advice (most of which he, again, already knew but had trouble putting into practice).

His next date wasn't horrible, but it was clear that things weren't going to work. His damnable awkwardness and desire to not overstep, even with his slightly more forward behavior courtesy of Dolce's advice, had ensured that. Mostly it came down to a difference in expectations, he would conclude while laying in his cold, empty bed that night. Jemini seemed to expect him to be the doting one and though he was eager to return any affection, he simply couldn't muster the nerve to be the one to initiate contact.

It was thus a nervous (and slightly despondent) Ozpin that showed up to the third date. In his continued attempts to be ever more true to himself, he'd purchased theatre tickets for an early showing of "Love Amongst the Ursai." The play was soppy and the characters somewhat shallow, but it was decently entertaining and a good measure of how much this date would be willing to put up with. He had no illusions about the "superiority" of his tastes and if a cheesy show was too much for her he couldn't forsee things lasting for more than a season.

Yet Miella made no comment, merely looped her arm through his when they turned to go in and asked if he was familiar with any of the players. One of the side characters, Tyb, was an old classmate of hers and very charismatic onstage, she explained.

He was pleasantly surprised.

They took their seats and he continued to be pleasantly surprised as she gently rubbed his hand from wrist to palm then entangled her fingers with his when the lights dimmed. Had this been a "proper" first date he would have pulled away- he wasn't fond of grabby behaviour until some sort of rapport had been built up- but this sort of casual affection was exactly what he was looking for in a sugar relationship. That sort of ease without the anxious, awkward buildup or the expectation of marriage and children suited him just fine, thank you.

He made sure to express his appreciation by paying the agreed upon fee and a half for the pleasure of her company for a night out in addition to a palmful of lien on top of her cab-ride home as a gift.

Their second date was, sadly, less physical and more pragmatic. They met for lunch at a cafe with their tablets and hashed out the terms of their arrangement between refills of tea and chocolate croissants; in return for such and such, Miella could be expected to... for doing this and that, Ozpin would... On and on.

While it might seem mercenary and cold to some, Ozpin appreciated the straightforwardness of it all. He'd been (or tried to be) similarly upfront when he was looking for a roommate when starting at Beacon, but it hadn't panned out due to his sudden merging with Oswin. Now, however, he was firmly settled, and with Dolce's advice, confident about proceeding.

"-not technically a part of this," Miella gestured with a painted hand to the open document, which currently had a list of allergens. "But is there anything you'd like me to wear? My last _partner_ liked gloves, for example." The way she stressed the word made her meaning clear.

"Hm, well..." He adjusted his glasses. He didn't have any strong opinions on fashion aside from his own preference for suits and the color green. "It's a bit of an older look, but I do enjoy stockings with Manhatta heels."

She inclined her head, dark brows furrowed slightly. "Is that a brand?" Unspoken but clearly heard was the question of if she needed to go out and update her wardrobe.

"No, it's a type of fabrication," he picked up his tablet and pulled up a new window. He turned the screen around to show her when the page loaded. Dozens of images of women's legs shot from behind with sheer, thigh high hosiery gartered in place and a delicate line running from top to reinforced heel.

Some, but not all, of the models wore high heels to accentuate the long lean lines, which he could have done without. With the height of their ridiculous footwear, he worried how many had unexpectedly sneezed, stumbled, and sprained their ankles.

She hummed in consideration and swiped through the results. "I see; do you like specifically Manhatta heels or would any heel work? What about other types of stockings? Sheer, opaque, patterned, etc?"

He did his best to answer, though he was falling back into the ambivalent attitude he'd previously been chastised for by Dolce. Truthfully, he didn't have any strong opinions. He liked long socks and soft thighs; he liked peeling long socks off of soft thighs and the anticipation on his partner's face when he did so with his teeth. That was the extent of his "tastes."

Miella nodded and moved on where Dolce would have dug. Thorough as she was, she didn't linger where he had no answers to give, which he greatly appreciated.

He'd firmly declared sex and any sexual acts off the table for at least six months and she nodded again without complaint. His anxiety about how _that_ request would be received must have bled through because she then broke a self-imposed rule about not tampering their discussion with affection and rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand until his shoulders relaxed.

Her slate blue eyes squinted at the edges with a half-suppressed smile but he couldn't find it in himself to be too embarrassed.

Because Ozpin was a grown man and not a lovesick teenager, he did not sigh when she pulled her hand away, though it was a close thing. Even with the six-month waiting period, they moved onto a discussion of what he might theoretically ask for and what sort of things she might be willing to do. (He found out then she'd taken a class or two on erotic massages and his other half howled at him to keep her.)

Ahem.

While that was lovely, she also offered face and hand massages to ease him into the idea? If he wanted? Her own quick, awkward tone made him feel that much better about his previous (and many) conversational stumbles. They finished up not long after and traded a draft of the not-quite-a-contract between themselves over the course of a week.

Which brought him to now, holed up in his shower with the wonderful invention that was aromatherapy while Miella set up the living room for a night in to celebrate their negotiations being over. After a long day of faculty meetings and a round of panel interviews, he was looking forward to nothing more than a soothing massage to his temples and her hands through his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Being a paid companion was its own sort of work. Unlike the mindless bliss of restocking shelves at the library, or the faint anxiety that ran under her skin when running a register, there was a sort of eagle-eyed ease that went into things. She had to be on her toes to catch what her partner liked, especially to catch the things they hadn't said, but she had to be calm about it. Her internal running commentary might've howled like a dog with a hunt but shouting to the rooftops that she figured out Ozpin preferred fruity scents on her would've scared the poor man off- and he looked so easy to scare!

He was tall, with long lean limbs that brushed the edge of lanky, and a surprisingly young face hidden by thick grey hair and his ridiculous glasses. Perhaps it was the all dark greens and black, but his shoulders and chest looked slim and sloped, like an hurriedly stripped twig- until he took off his shirt. He was still skinny, true, but she could better see the breadth to his shoulders and that balanced the rest of his slender form out nicely.

That all said, he was skittish and a little awkward. She definitely hadn't imagined the little jolt he gave when she squeezed his- well, he was too skinny for love handles but his love handle area (?). She made sure to keep her hands higher than that for the rest of their date and he didn't say anything but he seemed to appreciate it. He also appreciated... this, for some unknown reason.

Miella tucked a box of chocolate dipped granola bars under her arm and turned the corner. Ozpin stood with two nearly identical boxes of cereal in hand with a frown on his face as he raised and lowered each one.

She wasn't exactly sure how grocery shopping counted as a date when he had the bulk of his food delivered for the convenience of his cook, but this wasn't the worst thing she could be doing in exchange for her Scroll bill being paid. She added the granola to the cart and tucked herself under his arm when he lifted the two choices at her. "Get the strawberry- it has more sugar and somebody's sweet tooth has been acting up lately."

He made an offended noise at that but had no argument. Not that he could argue anything. She'd made two runs this week to pick up his order from the bakery and each time she came back with a box bigger than her head. It was hiring season, he explained after her second go round, and they'd moved from candidate reviews to actual interviews.

Which explained little but hey, there was a reason Miella wasn't in a position to hire anyone.

They swept past the rest of the cereals, chips, and cookies (he scoffed at packaged sweets- the snob) and strolled down the next aisle. Had the store been any busier she would have walked behind him or lead the expedition herself, but Ozpin had chosen well. There was barely a soul around aside from the workers restocking shelves. Then again, what should she expect from a 7 PM grocery shopping spree on a Wednesday night?

Old habit had her keep a running total of their cart and she was pleased that even with rounding she was spot-on in her estimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin.


End file.
